


Morning Commute

by CoffeeKristin



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Coffee Shops, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeKristin/pseuds/CoffeeKristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new customer coming in to Zingerman's every morning and Patrick tries to deny it's the best part of his day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Commute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altri_uccelli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/altri_uccelli/gifts), [Mullsandmutts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mullsandmutts/gifts).



> This is a silly AU I wrote at the urging of mullsnmutts when I showed her around Zingerman’s. It’s a group of businesses that include a deli, bakehouse, bakery, coffeeshop, creamery… the list goes on and on. This AU is set at their main business location. If you don’t already know about [Zingerman’s](http://www.zingermansdeli.com/menus/breakfast/), I strongly urge you to click on the link. They have a huge online catalogue and they’re amazingly customer-service oriented. And if you’re ever in Ann Arbor, definitely get over to the deli to see if for yourself. And this is the inspiration for [Jonny's apartment](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-vWbKu7HR9LRU5WTndfRk5sb0E/view?usp=sharing) and is right across the street.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to [Mullsnmutts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mullsandmutts/pseuds/Mullsandmutts/) and [altri-uccelli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/altri_uccelli/pseuds/altri_uccelli), both of whom know the joys of Zingerman’s, one as a long-time afficionado (altri) and one as a newby (jenn). Hopefully we can go there together again someday!
> 
> Thanks to my best girl [>Frosting50](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosting50/pseuds/Frosting50) for the rapid beta and for figuring out how to end this. You're my rock star, bob.

Patrick looks up with a smile as the door chimes. “Welcome to Zingerman’s,” he starts, and then smiles wider when he sees who it is: the grumpy guy who comes in at 8:30 on the dot every morning, a beanie pulled low over his ears and a frown on his face. “Good morning,” Patrick says sunnily, deliberately raising the volume of his voice.

The man just squints at him for a long moment. “How can you be this happy this early in the morning?” He finally growls, husky voiced in a way that goes right to Patrick’s cock. It’s the most he’d spoken to Patrick in the three weeks he’d been coming in for coffee, and fuck. He’s just glad he’s got an apron on.

“Well, it’s not that early for me,” Patrick says, grabbing a cup and making the guy’s usual. “I’ve been here since four-thirty.”

“Four-” The horror on the guy’s face made Patrick laugh, and he passes over the cup, lid off, so he can add exactly three raw sugar cubes and a dollop of cream. “That’s - I haven’t even gone to bed yet at four-thirty most mornings.”

“I know,” Patrick says, nodding towards the apartment across the street with the round picture window. “I always see your light on.” His feels his ears get hot when the guy looks up quickly. “I mean. Uh.”

“You know where I live,” the guy says slowly. “How do you know where I live?”

“I - you - “ Patrick’s flush spreads to his cheeks. “It’s just right there, man, I just noticed when you walked out once.” Or twice, or every day since the guy moved in three weeks ago.

“Hmm,” the guy says, and takes a sip of the coffee, his lashes fluttering shut as he inhales quickly. When he opens his eyes again, Patrick starts and looks away hurriedly. 

Jesus, he’s extra smooth today, Patrick thinks, willing his cheeks to stop flaming. He turns away to start another pot of coffee brewing.

“Well, if you know where I live, it seems only fair that you my name,” the guy says, “I’m Jonny.”

When Patrick turns around, the guy’s holding out his hand a little uncomfortably, like being friendly at eight-thirty in the morning isn’t something he’s used to doing. It’s so exactly him - so _Jonny,_ Patrick thinks - that it cuts through Patrick’s embarrassment. “Well, hi, Jonny. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Patrick. But you know that,” he waves at his nametag. “But, anyway, yeah. I’m Patrick, so uh. Nice to meet you.” Patrick wonders how hard he would have to bang his head against the wall in back in order to forget this debacle of a conversation.

“Nice to meet you, too, Patrick,” Jonny says, a little dubious and a little amused but nicely ignoring Patrick’s verbal diarrhea. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Once Jonny’s gone, Patrick lays his hot face on the countertop, banging his head against the hard surface repeatedly until Sharpy slips a hand underneath. Because it’s Sharpy, his hand’s wet and Patrick stands up, grabbing a towel and wiping at his forehead. “That better just be water, dicksmack,” Patrick says, glaring at him.

“Aw, Peeks, I can’t let you damage your brain. You’re already behind in the intelligence category,” Sharpy says, moving swiftly out of reach as Patrick snaps the towel at him. “What’s the matter, anyway? Usually you’re all glowy and smiley after your boy stops by.”

“Jonny’s not my boy,” Patrick grumps. He grabs a mug from the sink and polishes it roughly. “He’s - “

“Jonny,” Sharpy says, grin widening. The amount of teeth he’s flashing is honestly alarming. “So you finally got a name, hmm?”

“Fat lot of good it does me, now he thinks I’m a stalker or a loser or a loser who’s a stalker.” Patrick slumps against the counter. “I acted like a complete ass. Ugh.”

“Hmm,” Sharpy says again, but this time it’s a sympathetic sound, and Patrick shrugs and looks away. “Well, I doubt you were that bad - although the stalker part is totally true, you creep.” Sharpy pokes him in the side and Patrick can’t help barking out an offended laugh. “Want a Renee’s Kitchen with extra cheddar?”

“Split it with me?” Patrick says, and Sharpy nods, heading across the courtyard to the building housing the deli to put their order in. He pours himself another cup of decaf - he’s clearly had too much caffeine today - and reminds himself that he’s an intelligent attractive man with a great job and amazing - if annoying - friends and the fact that the cute guy who lives across the street reduced him to a blathering idiot isn’t that big a deal.

He’s not even a little bit convinced, but hanging out with Sharpy puts the whole thing out of his head until business picks up in the coffeehouse, and then he doesn’t have time to think about anything but making coffee.

***

“Hi, Patrick,” a voice says from above the counter, and Patrick stands up quickly, banging his head on the edge on the way up. “Ow,” Patrick whines, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Sorry?” Jonny’s biting his lip when Patrick looks at him, trying to hold back a smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Patrick mumbles, his cheeks heating again. Jesus, is he ever going to stop making an ass of himself in front of this guy? “Usual?” At least Patrick’s good at making coffee, and that probably means Jonny’ll keep coming in. He can deal with the humiliation if he gets to see Jonny every day. Probably.

“Uh, no,” Jonny says, and now that Patrick really looks at him, Jonny’s shifting on his feet, and his cheeks are a little pink. He looks constipated and a little lost, and he’s the most beautiful thing Patrick’s seen all month. “I - what did you say?”

Patrick blinks. “I didn’t - “

“Did you say I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve seen all month?” Jonny’s eyes are wide and they make him look young, and Patrick just wants to climb him like a tree.

Oh, shit, did he say all that out loud?

“Yes,” Jonny swallows audibly. “Yes, you said that all out loud.” He looks shocked and a little frightened, and. He’s afraid of Patrick. Fuck.

“Fuck,” Patrick says, humiliation washing through him. “I’m - fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t - I shouldn’t have - I have to go.” He rips off his apron and darts into the back to grab his bag, his cheeks burning. He’s gonna have to quit his job and probably move back to Buffalo and that will suck because he loves Ann Arbor, but fuck it, he just can’t bear the thought that he might bump into Jonny sometime and see him grimace or worse, whisper to a friend about the crazy dude who used to serve him coffee and stalk him. He’s gonna miss Zingerman’s and his friends, and he’s gonna have to start over at the University of Buffalo, and he’ll never finish his degree and - 

A hand grabs Patrick’s arm and yanks him to a halt just as he’s about to climb on his bike. “Patrick!” Jonny’s holding onto him, panting and frantic. “Don’t - I - you don’t have to leave!”

“I just - didn’t you hear me in there?” Patrick tries to pull away, but the guy’s arms are exactly as strong as they looked and he can’t get loose.

“My arms look strong?” Jonny says, his fingers tightening a little on Patrick’s bicep.

“Oh my god,” Patrick whispers. “I can’t stop saying shit out loud. Holy fuck you must think I’m insane. Maybe I’ve gone insane. Do you think I’m insane? Oh my God. I still can’t stop!”

“Patrick, I - don’t - shit,” Jonny says, shaking Patrick a little. “You’re not insane! I like it! Okay?”

“How can you like that I blurt out whatever I’m thinking, like how you’re so tall I just want to climb you like a tree?” Patrick claps a hand over his mouth. “My God, someone stop me, please,” he mumbles between his fingers in despair.

“How about if I do this,” Jonny says, pulling him a little closer easily, making Patrick whimper at his strength. He pries Patrick’s fingers away from his mouth and leans even closer, until Patrick can feel the heat of Jonny’s breath. “Is it okay if I - Patrick. Can I kiss you?”

“Ye-” Patrick doesn’t quite get out before Jonny’s kissing him, a firm, sweet press of lips that slowly deepens into something stronger and hotter. Patrick moans and Jonny takes advantage of the movement to lick into Patrick’s mouth, tangling their tongues together gently. Patrick’s knees buckle a little when Jonny licks across the roof of his mouth, and Jonny chuckles, hauling him in and pressing Patrick against his body. Patrick pulls back, panting, and Jonny dives back in, but he turns away.

“Wait, wait!” Patrick says when Jonny tries to dive back in. “What are you doing? What are _we_ doing?”

“Kissing?” Jonny answers. “Kissing,” he says more definitively while Patrick stares at his lips. And wow, Jonny’s mouth is pink, and it’s wet, and God, it’s so hot.

“If you talk like this during sex, I’m never going to last,” Jonny says with a growl, and then he’s not just kissing Patrick, he’s inhaling him. It’s a lot - Jonny’s so tall and so strong, and he makes Patrick feel boxed in and short, and for some reason that’s really doing it for him, so he slides closer until he can press his cock against Jonny’s thigh. Which, holy shit, it’s as hard as a rock, and it’s clenching a little under Patrick’s cock, and it feels so good, it makes Patrick shiver and gasp.

“Fuck, shut up, shut up,” Jonny says, clapping a hand over Patrick’s mouth. “I’m gonna come in my pants in the alley behind Zingerman’s and that’s not how I want to remember our first time, asshole.” Patrick looks up at Jonny, and Jonny’s staring at him desperately, his lips pink and his pupils blown. He shakes his head at Patrick when he pulls on his hand. “Nope, not another word. Come on.” He tugs Patrick’s hand, frog marching him out of the alley and across the street. 

“Where?”

“You may not know this, but my place is right over here.” He throws a wink over his shoulder with a grin and Patrick laughs, the sound echoing off the cobblestones. 

***

The next morning Patrick’s hard at work fixing Jonny the perfect cup of coffee. Since Jonny first walked through the door of Zingerman’s, this has long been the best part of Patrick’s mornings. He’s willing to concede, however, that it’s a routine infinitely improved when the cup he’s handing over is a chipped U of M mug and the man in question is wearing only threadbare boxers. Coffee flavored kisses are a nice upgrade too.


End file.
